Mod Posture
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Science Fiction Short Story Mod Posture
Mod Posture
By Patrick S. Barnes
© 2025 Patrick S. Barnes. All Rights Reserved.
She was intentionally late for a meeting to determine the fate of the entire world.
It was a nice negotiation tactic to throw him off balance, but such things no longer bothered Morgan. He kept his thoughts calm and concentrated on his task for today. The stakes were high.
The conference room he sat in was part of an ancient monastery. It was a favorite place for him. He had personally seen to its renovation many years before, as a meeting and retreat center. The morning sun blazed through a stained-glass window; its light beams warmed the room.
He thought about how the world had gotten to this point and how the Mods had become so powerful. It had started as a fad, he remembered. So harmless at first. Electronic keys and paper-thin cell phones buried under the skin. Conveniences.
He remembered when she showed him the brochures. The heated arguments had begun that day.
“I need this to compete and stay in the game,” she had said to him.
As a physician and a scientist, he was appalled that business professionals were installing computers and networking hardware inside their bodies. The construction and trades industries were even worse, with whole limb replacements, servos, and battery packs.
"You don't need this to be competitive," he had told her.
"The entire company is doing it!"
By then, the modifications had gotten a lot more radical, and he had not been nice about it.
"Ripping out pieces of your body and turning yourself into a machine is insane.”
"I'm not turning into a machine! I am improving myself!"
"You’re wrecking your body! You don't need to do that to keep your job."
"You're living in the past, Morgan!" she screamed and left the house.
The moment she became network-linked was when she stopped coming home most nights.
Morgan, like many, had considered Mods. His entire company had contemplated the efficiencies it offered, but then asked themselves, “Where does it end?” The answer was not human.
Now, 40 years later, the number of people on the planet who were Mod was over 70%. More than half of that number had been modified by force or coercion by governments under the Mods’ control.
The Mods had become extremely augmented over the years, and while they still appeared human, the line between human and android was becoming less clear every year.
Now, Morgan heard the approaching group of hover cars and saw them from the balcony. The three vehicles flew low over Pegasus Bay, then up the long sloping cliff. There were two armored escorts and the representative’s limo. When they reached the summit, they ignored the modern landing pad a few hundred yards away and halted above the gardens. With far too much thrust and roaring engines, they destroyed the carefully manicured bushes and flower gardens and landed on top of them.
Morgan, surprised but not angry, sighed to himself, thinking that was negotiating ploy number two.
A few minutes later, the Mod representative arrived through the conference room’s arched door, her steel-tipped high heels rapping firmly on the ancient stone floor.
A plainclothes security officer, much larger than her diminutive frame, followed a few paces back. While wearing a suit, it was clear he was armed. Both of his modified arms had small but lethal-looking barrels poking out of each sleeve. Morgan was sure he had additional items on him, but did not feel a scan was necessary. They had adequate firepower to level the monastery and the hillside it sat on.
Meredith Chambers spoke as she entered the conference room, “Morgan! What a pleasure to see you again! I apologize for my tardiness. So many details to handle today.”
Morgan stood and gestured for Meredith to take a seat. "It's wonderful to see you again, Meredith."
He marveled at her appearance.
“You look stunning as always,” he said and meant it. She was 103 years old, and the black business suit she wore, clearly tailored, fit her athletic form perfectly. She radiated sexuality.
It was one of the many reasons he married her 63 years ago.
After more pleasantries were exchanged and tea was served, Meredith said, “So, Morgan, we’re happy that you requested this meeting. Since discussions with your previous representative, Kim, ended, we have had limited communication.”
“Meredith, Kim Chase almost died when you sabotaged her hover car at the last meeting. That’s the reason the talks broke down."
“Well, Morgan, I am not sure about that. When I was made aware of the accident and that accusation, I was very disturbed."
After taking off from her last meeting with Meredith, Kim Chase’s hover car had lost power and plummeted to the ground, almost killing her.
“The power delivery system of her car was intentionally disabled,” he said flatly.
"We had our best people investigate the reports from your technicians. We saw no evidence of sabotage in the vehicle."
He had expected this response from her and waited while she continued.
"In addition, we categorically deny involvement in any plot to harm Ms. Chase.” She paused. “I am glad to hear she is doing better. Please send her my well wishes,” she said with a complete lack of emotion while looking at her manicured nails.
Morgan absorbed her superficial comments and was about to speak when he looked at her hands. He was shocked to see that several of her fingers were translucent. Inside each of them were multiple components and servos. It was possible that her fingers had been removed, and these were bio-wrapped prosthetics.
How much of the original Meredith is left? he wondered.
Meredith saw his reaction and smiled slightly, thrilled that she had thrown him off balance.
Morgan chided himself for still being affected by her. This is not about me and Meredith. It's about the future of humanity! he told himself. It had been 40 years since their divorce, and he had not seen her in person in over 30 years. Much had changed in the world, including his ex-wife. He needed to be strong and take comfort in the events unfolding. His people had given him a huge responsibility today. To speak for all of them as one. It surpassed anything else, including his past with Meredith.
"Well, Meredith, for now, we will table this issue. There are more pressing matters.”
"I completely agree, Morgan."
Morgan paused, composing his thoughts.
“A reasonable place to begin would be to talk about what our two postures have in common. I think it's abundantly clear that both the Mods and the Crisprs are committed to improving humanity.”
"That’s correct," she replied.
"Good. Now the Mods believe that humanity is improved through the use of cybernetic implants. Would that be a fair description?”
"Well, Morgan, while it's true they are cybernetic implants, we prefer the term attributes. Each attribute is an improvement to the human machine."
"Okay, attributes. Interesting."
Meredith smiled and added, "Some attributes are larger, like a tool for a craftsman, while others are very small, like the nanites in my body that repair cells.”
"I see," he said and continued, "How many attributes do you have inside of you?"
The security guard standing in the corner bristled at this question with a quiet huffing sound. Meredith casually glanced over her shoulder at him.
"Morgan, we find questions like that to be offensive and inappropriate."
"Oh! I'm sorry. I didn't know that," he said apologetically.
"That's quite all right. I know you and your people have been living down here at the bottom of the Earth for many years. Things are different in the rest of the world now, at least most of the world,” she added.
"I see. Again, I apologize. I was just curious."
"Think nothing of it, Morgan. Your curiosity is understandable. After all, we have not seen each other in over 30 years."
"Very true," he agreed.
"It's been a long time since our divorce. Sometimes it's hard to believe that we went on our first date 65 years ago. We were so young,” she added.
She looked like she had not aged a day, he thought to himself.
"As to your question, the number of attributes I have is irrelevant. I am the same woman you asked out on a date all those years ago.”
"I'm sure you are.”
"And look at you. You look very well for a man who is 112 years old," she said, smiling.
“Thank you. That’s very nice of you to say.”
"I assume you and the rest of the Crisprs have no attributes?”
"That's correct. We continue to adhere to our protocol of genetic improvements only. No Mods. We think they have been extremely beneficial to mankind.”
"They have indeed. The world is indebted to the Crisprs. Your genetic improvements eradicated cancer and most diseases, and we're all living twice the lifespan from just 40 years ago.”
Morgan smiled at her, pleased that she was acknowledging the Crisprs’ many accomplishments.
She continued. "Both of our postures have done amazing things for the human race. Just a few days ago, I received an update on the Mod-created faster-than-light space probe. It's already halfway to Alpha Centauri, and it's only been a few months.”
"Why, that's excellent to hear," he responded.
The abilities of the Mods’ network-linked minds were undeniable. They had created reliable and efficient forms of fusion energy and invented the first faster-than-light spacecraft. There were many other advancements as well.
Meredith continued, "Now, if we could only convince you and the Naturals to embrace Mods, the entire planet could be in harmony."
Morgan decided that now was the time for strong, honest words. The pleasantries were over, and there was no more padding to cushion their colliding belief systems.
"Meredith, when Mods were invented, we disagreed with them but respected an individual’s right to use them. It made sense as we both share the goal of improving humanity. However, it has been over 40 years, and we are alarmed by where it has led you."
Meredith's expression changed to one of curiosity, and she asked, "Where do you think it has led us, Morgan?"
Morgan chose his words carefully.
“You no longer respect the rights of other postures. The Mod movement has been systematically taking over every government in the world and forcing its citizens to accept modification. That is criminal,” he stated flatly.
While she should have been extremely agitated with the accusation, she responded casually as if she expected it.
“Morgan, that's completely false. We have been voted in by the people in every country that has embraced the Mod posture. I thought you would be beyond these types of inflammatory statements.”
Morgan gave her a dark stare. "Sadly, it’s all true. Your movement has cheated, lied, and threatened its way into every government you’ve taken over. Your treatment of other postures has also been criminal. What you've been doing to the Naturals has been atrocious. They just want to be left alone.”
“Morgan, while I respect your opinion, the Crisprs have no right to question the internal matters of sovereign governments.”
“As for the Naturals, let’s be honest. They are savages. Their refusals to accept modifications are a drain on the system. If they won’t change their postures to accept free Mods to bring them up to code, then they need to accept the government-sanctioned alternatives.”
Morgan knew what was coming, but asked anyway. “What alternatives?”
“There are several propositions the Mod-friendly governments are discussing privately, but I think the prevailing alternative will be free chemical castration. A simple, painless, and permanent procedure that will allow the Naturals to live out their lives, even with the ridiculous medical and societal burdens on the rest of us. Then, when they die, their genetic lines end peacefully. We think it’s an incredible concession on our part,” she smiled confidently.
Morgan shook his head at the outrageousness of it. They knew the Mods were already doing this in some countries.
“Meredith, there have also been many acts of violence against the Crisprs and the Naturals."
“We have heard some reports of this, but we played no part. I can’t say it was a surprise considering your opposition to the Mods.”
The government takeovers and the increasing violence against other postures had started an internal debate among the Crisprs. While all agreed that someone’s posture was a personal freedom, the argument centered on what to do when faced with the growing Mod persecution of non-Mods. It had been a contentious debate until the Crisprs had received the incredible message recently. After that, they knew what they had to do. The vote had been unanimous.
Morgan considered these events while Meredith continued.
“Morgan, as a close friend, I must tell you — Mod leadership is losing patience with the Crisprs.”
“Losing patience?” he said, surprised.
“Yes, Morgan!” she exclaimed. “You have been hiding down here for over 20 years and causing nothing but dissent around the world with your rhetoric! You must see by now that modification is the future of all humans!”
“That's ridiculous,” he replied.
She continued. “At the rate of Mod advancement, YOU could be in the Naturals’ shoes someday, so far behind that you are a burden on the entire planet.”
Morgan was furious now, but would not allow her the thrill of seeing it.
When she paused, he spoke quietly and seriously. “As you know, we will never accept your modifications. We have made remarkable strides in advancing humanity. In addition, we know that our work has a bigger purpose.”
“And what is that, Morgan?” she asked.
“Our work is based on what we think our creators wanted when they produced life in the galaxy. Haven't the Mods ever considered this? Gods, aliens, or however you want to describe them, they must have foreseen our future. They knew that one day, life on Earth, if it survived, would advance through natural selection and, when technologically possible, adjust the genetic code to continue these advances. They probably also saw the Mod process. We have accepted both notions, but now know that yours is the incorrect path.”
“Why are you so sure that Mods are the wrong path?”
“Because at the end of all your technical modifications, you'll just be sentient robots. That’s not humanity, Meredith.”
Calling them robots was an insulting thing to say; he knew that. Morgan was also playing the agitation game. Both Meredith and the security guard reacted to the slur with shocked expressions.
He continued. “So here we are, you the representative of the Mods and me the representative of the Crisprs, at an impasse. The Crisprs only want peace and equality for all humans. Can there be peace between us?”
“Morgan, Mod leadership sees the Crisprs as a serious threat. You and your people have retreated to these southernmost parts of the world and work to undermine our mission of a single unified Mod posture. While your advancements have been incredible, you represent a broken component in the machine.”
Then her manner relaxed and changed. She glanced backward at her security officer briefly, then leaned forward, speaking slowly and quietly. “Morgan, on a more personal note, I miss you.”
She paused, looking nervously down at her tea, and slowly raised her eyes to him. “Our two postures are the only reason we separated.” She reached forward and gently grasped his hands, “We were so good together,” she said, looking over his still handsome form with a barely noticeable licking of her lips. “Why can’t we try again?”
She looked at him, almost begging.
He was silent. It had been thirty years since he had seen her, and she still affected him.
She held his hands and continued. "Our postures are different, but we can work through that. With our extended lifetimes, we can have new lives.” Her modified hands were soft, warm, and felt incredible. She looked deep in his eyes as only she could. Her gray eyes were still the most beautiful he had ever seen. When she flashed them at him like now, it demolished his soul. He did miss her. While his life was good, he was still alone. Few women he had met could replace her hold on his heart. He glanced down at her breasts that swelled in the tailored suit, and she caught him enjoying the view and smiled. “It’s nice to see you look at me like that again,” she said softly.
“Meredith…” he said and stopped, staring into her eyes and gorgeous face. Every fiber of him was tempted, but the cost. His iron core, which normally grounded him, was melting.
“Morgan, I want to share something with you. It’s a gift.” She then closed her eyes for a moment, and to Morgan’s repulsion, something moved along her breast inside the tight business suit.
“Meredith?” he began, a slight nervousness in his voice.
She continued, “It’s part of me. I brought it for you,” she said as a several-inch-long white spider emerged from her jacket and crawled down her arm and onto the table.
“Meredith, stop!” he yelled, releasing her hands and jumping up from the table, pushing his chair back. Whatever spell she had cast on him rocketed away, and he stood disgusted at her attempt to modify him.
The Mod security officer reacted immediately to his actions. He flexed his hands, and the barrels of his arm cannons emerged, now charged for use.
Meredith blinked, and the spider returned to her sleeve, twitching ferociously.
“Morgan, I want us to be one again. Accept my gift and give up this stupid Crispr nonsense. There’s only so much you can do and so much more we can do together. You must know that!”
Morgan stood far back from the table, watching Meredith, the spider, and the dangerous security officer. He knew before the meeting started that it was pointless, yet he let his emotions drive the situation. That was a mistake.
The Crisprs understood his plan to talk with her. For all that was going on in this room, she was the most moderate of her people, the rest being even more cruel and destructive. He hoped that enough of her humanity remained to influence the dire situation facing the world. She was his Meredith, and it was worth the risk. His people had told him the risk of being killed was high. He knew this and had almost fallen for her again, even after these many years. However, looking at her, now finally scanning her with abilities she didn’t know he possessed, he was revolted at the result. The person who was Meredith was almost gone.
He also knew, now reading her mind, that all around Australia and New Zealand, the Crisprs’ homeland, Mod invasion forces were in the air, moving toward these countries. Hundreds of hover carriers and troop ships. This was the Mods’ endgame. Everyone would join voluntarily or be forced to accept white spiders and modification.
Morgan mentally shared this information with all the Crisprs.
Meredith watched him curiously, wondering what was going on in his head during the few seconds it took him to scan her and send the information along.
“Morgan, it doesn’t have to be like this,” she said.
He looked at her, listening to his people in his head. “Deliver the ultimatum,” they said. He acknowledged.
Meredith tilted her head to the guard, who raised an arm at Morgan, now pointing an autocannon at him. Without taking his eyes off Meredith, Morgan pulled the guard’s arms off with his mind and threw them across the room into the back wall. The guard’s spinning and falling form showered Meredith with blood. His shrieking filled the room, and he fell to the floor, blood pumping out of his shoulder sockets at great volume. Meredith stared at the guard aghast and then back at Morgan. Morgan looked at the guard and concentrated. His shoulder wounds closed quickly, and he passed out. He would live.
Meredith stepped back now, looking at Morgan, clearly afraid. She pointed her closed fist, which held a powerful laser, at Morgan. It could have cut him in two had he not disabled it. “What the hell are you?” she screamed, still backing up toward the wall of the conference room.
Morgan kept his hands at his side and spoke calmly, “Meredith, the laser won’t work, and I have no plans to hurt you. Your guard will be okay, and your security personnel outside are only unconscious,” he said, nodding toward the window. She glanced out the window, now seeing at least one guard on the ground, unmoving.
“How?”
“Meredith, we made some astounding breakthroughs 12 years ago in our research. Since then, things have increased rapidly. Our abilities...” he said, looking at the unconscious guard, “our knowledge, but most of all our discovery that the path we have been following is the correct one.”
“How do you know that?” she said.
“Those who created humanity and all life in this universe contacted us,” he said, smiling gently.
Meredith laughed bitterly with tears running down her blood-speckled face, still looking at the guard, his arms on the floor across the room, and the massive blood pool on the floor. “You talked to God?” she said incredulously.
He shook his head and said, “We don’t know who it was. They sent us a message. Nothing more. They told us we are right to follow this path and to retain our humanity. They told all of us, at once, ten months ago, and then nothing more.” Morgan frowned. “There was no more contact, as much as we have tried. We are on our own for now, and the future is in our hands.”
“And us? Will you share this knowledge?” she asked hopefully.
“I think you know that would be foolish of us at this point. You would use it to go to war. We know about the invasion plans.” Meredith’s eyes went wide. Morgan continued, “All of your vessels are without power and floating unharmed in the ocean. Please don’t give us reason to end lives,” he said flatly.
“Then what?” Meredith said.
Morgan placed his hands behind his back and offered the ultimatum decided by all Crisprs. “You will abandon and remove your cybernetics; you will allow democracy in all places and no longer persecute anyone. You will help humanity. That is your mission now. You are being given only one chance. Just one,” he said, raising a finger into the air. “Please don’t mess this up.”
Meredith wiped her face and said, “My Mod superiors may not be as convinced as me.” Morgan smiled at her. “We understood this from the beginning,” he said. “That’s why our meeting today will appear in every mind in the world when we leave here. They will understand. If not, then you will all perish in the blink of an eye.”
Meredith shook her head as more tears fell from her eyes, and she openly wept. “Morgan, I’m…sorry,” she said, looking down at the floor and then seeing him suddenly right in front of her. He used his sleeve, like he had many times while they were married, to wipe her tears away. She watched his face as he wiped her tears, then became very scared.
“Morgan, I am not sure I can live as a normal human,” she paused, almost looking sick. “I’ve had too many modifications. I don’t think I can stay alive.”
He stood back a step and looked at her, concentrating. Then he stepped away from the table and said, “You will be able to live.” The conference table held dozens of components, assemblies, artificial body parts, and melted spiders. She realized quickly that these were hers. She looked at her hands, now normal and pink, and felt her stomach touching real flesh for the first time in many years, and her tears flowed again. “Morgan...” she could not finish her words.
Morgan spoke firmly and quietly, “Meredith, this is proof of what we can do. All the Mods will be made whole just as you are now, but only when they can prove they are still worth saving. Please, I beg you, Meredith,” he held up one finger again. “There will be only one chance, or you will all die,” he said flatly.
Her face showed a renewed purpose. “I will make them understand, I swear, Morgan.”
“I hope so, Meredith. I do. We will be watching,” he said, walking across the room to touch the stained-glass window one last time. “Many of us, including me, are going away.”
She looked up, confused. “Away?” she asked.
“You will see us again, but there is exploring to do. Be well, Meredith,” he paused, looking into her eyes. “I love you.” And he disappeared.
“Morgan!” she pleaded, looking around the room. He was nowhere to be seen. She glanced at the guard, now hearing him moan. His wounds were healed, and small stumps were protruding from his shoulder sockets, covered with freshly growing, pinkish skin.
THE END.
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Patrick S. Barnes lives in Farmville, Virginia where he works as a digital marketing and branding professional. He writes sci-fi short stories and novels in his spare time. Formerly the brand manager for the science fiction network COMET TV, he’s a dedicated sci-fi reader and film buff who believes UFOs are real. He plays right wing on a local ice hockey team and lives with his wife and a roaming band of feral cats.
By Patrick S. Barnes
© 2025 Patrick S. Barnes. All Rights Reserved.
She was intentionally late for a meeting to determine the fate of the entire world.
It was a nice negotiation tactic to throw him off balance, but such things no longer bothered Morgan. He kept his thoughts calm and concentrated on his task for today. The stakes were high.
The conference room he sat in was part of an ancient monastery. It was a favorite place for him. He had personally seen to its renovation many years before, as a meeting and retreat center. The morning sun blazed through a stained-glass window; its light beams warmed the room.
He thought about how the world had gotten to this point and how the Mods had become so powerful. It had started as a fad, he remembered. So harmless at first. Electronic keys and paper-thin cell phones buried under the skin. Conveniences.
He remembered when she showed him the brochures. The heated arguments had begun that day.
“I need this to compete and stay in the game,” she had said to him.
As a physician and a scientist, he was appalled that business professionals were installing computers and networking hardware inside their bodies. The construction and trades industries were even worse, with whole limb replacements, servos, and battery packs.
"You don't need this to be competitive," he had told her.
"The entire company is doing it!"
By then, the modifications had gotten a lot more radical, and he had not been nice about it.
"Ripping out pieces of your body and turning yourself into a machine is insane.”
"I'm not turning into a machine! I am improving myself!"
"You’re wrecking your body! You don't need to do that to keep your job."
"You're living in the past, Morgan!" she screamed and left the house.
The moment she became network-linked was when she stopped coming home most nights.
Morgan, like many, had considered Mods. His entire company had contemplated the efficiencies it offered, but then asked themselves, “Where does it end?” The answer was not human.
Now, 40 years later, the number of people on the planet who were Mod was over 70%. More than half of that number had been modified by force or coercion by governments under the Mods’ control.
The Mods had become extremely augmented over the years, and while they still appeared human, the line between human and android was becoming less clear every year.
Now, Morgan heard the approaching group of hover cars and saw them from the balcony. The three vehicles flew low over Pegasus Bay, then up the long sloping cliff. There were two armored escorts and the representative’s limo. When they reached the summit, they ignored the modern landing pad a few hundred yards away and halted above the gardens. With far too much thrust and roaring engines, they destroyed the carefully manicured bushes and flower gardens and landed on top of them.
Morgan, surprised but not angry, sighed to himself, thinking that was negotiating ploy number two.
A few minutes later, the Mod representative arrived through the conference room’s arched door, her steel-tipped high heels rapping firmly on the ancient stone floor.
A plainclothes security officer, much larger than her diminutive frame, followed a few paces back. While wearing a suit, it was clear he was armed. Both of his modified arms had small but lethal-looking barrels poking out of each sleeve. Morgan was sure he had additional items on him, but did not feel a scan was necessary. They had adequate firepower to level the monastery and the hillside it sat on.
Meredith Chambers spoke as she entered the conference room, “Morgan! What a pleasure to see you again! I apologize for my tardiness. So many details to handle today.”
Morgan stood and gestured for Meredith to take a seat. "It's wonderful to see you again, Meredith."
He marveled at her appearance.
“You look stunning as always,” he said and meant it. She was 103 years old, and the black business suit she wore, clearly tailored, fit her athletic form perfectly. She radiated sexuality.
It was one of the many reasons he married her 63 years ago.
After more pleasantries were exchanged and tea was served, Meredith said, “So, Morgan, we’re happy that you requested this meeting. Since discussions with your previous representative, Kim, ended, we have had limited communication.”
“Meredith, Kim Chase almost died when you sabotaged her hover car at the last meeting. That’s the reason the talks broke down."
“Well, Morgan, I am not sure about that. When I was made aware of the accident and that accusation, I was very disturbed."
After taking off from her last meeting with Meredith, Kim Chase’s hover car had lost power and plummeted to the ground, almost killing her.
“The power delivery system of her car was intentionally disabled,” he said flatly.
"We had our best people investigate the reports from your technicians. We saw no evidence of sabotage in the vehicle."
He had expected this response from her and waited while she continued.
"In addition, we categorically deny involvement in any plot to harm Ms. Chase.” She paused. “I am glad to hear she is doing better. Please send her my well wishes,” she said with a complete lack of emotion while looking at her manicured nails.
Morgan absorbed her superficial comments and was about to speak when he looked at her hands. He was shocked to see that several of her fingers were translucent. Inside each of them were multiple components and servos. It was possible that her fingers had been removed, and these were bio-wrapped prosthetics.
How much of the original Meredith is left? he wondered.
Meredith saw his reaction and smiled slightly, thrilled that she had thrown him off balance.
Morgan chided himself for still being affected by her. This is not about me and Meredith. It's about the future of humanity! he told himself. It had been 40 years since their divorce, and he had not seen her in person in over 30 years. Much had changed in the world, including his ex-wife. He needed to be strong and take comfort in the events unfolding. His people had given him a huge responsibility today. To speak for all of them as one. It surpassed anything else, including his past with Meredith.
"Well, Meredith, for now, we will table this issue. There are more pressing matters.”
"I completely agree, Morgan."
Morgan paused, composing his thoughts.
“A reasonable place to begin would be to talk about what our two postures have in common. I think it's abundantly clear that both the Mods and the Crisprs are committed to improving humanity.”
"That’s correct," she replied.
"Good. Now the Mods believe that humanity is improved through the use of cybernetic implants. Would that be a fair description?”
"Well, Morgan, while it's true they are cybernetic implants, we prefer the term attributes. Each attribute is an improvement to the human machine."
"Okay, attributes. Interesting."
Meredith smiled and added, "Some attributes are larger, like a tool for a craftsman, while others are very small, like the nanites in my body that repair cells.”
"I see," he said and continued, "How many attributes do you have inside of you?"
The security guard standing in the corner bristled at this question with a quiet huffing sound. Meredith casually glanced over her shoulder at him.
"Morgan, we find questions like that to be offensive and inappropriate."
"Oh! I'm sorry. I didn't know that," he said apologetically.
"That's quite all right. I know you and your people have been living down here at the bottom of the Earth for many years. Things are different in the rest of the world now, at least most of the world,” she added.
"I see. Again, I apologize. I was just curious."
"Think nothing of it, Morgan. Your curiosity is understandable. After all, we have not seen each other in over 30 years."
"Very true," he agreed.
"It's been a long time since our divorce. Sometimes it's hard to believe that we went on our first date 65 years ago. We were so young,” she added.
She looked like she had not aged a day, he thought to himself.
"As to your question, the number of attributes I have is irrelevant. I am the same woman you asked out on a date all those years ago.”
"I'm sure you are.”
"And look at you. You look very well for a man who is 112 years old," she said, smiling.
“Thank you. That’s very nice of you to say.”
"I assume you and the rest of the Crisprs have no attributes?”
"That's correct. We continue to adhere to our protocol of genetic improvements only. No Mods. We think they have been extremely beneficial to mankind.”
"They have indeed. The world is indebted to the Crisprs. Your genetic improvements eradicated cancer and most diseases, and we're all living twice the lifespan from just 40 years ago.”
Morgan smiled at her, pleased that she was acknowledging the Crisprs’ many accomplishments.
She continued. "Both of our postures have done amazing things for the human race. Just a few days ago, I received an update on the Mod-created faster-than-light space probe. It's already halfway to Alpha Centauri, and it's only been a few months.”
"Why, that's excellent to hear," he responded.
The abilities of the Mods’ network-linked minds were undeniable. They had created reliable and efficient forms of fusion energy and invented the first faster-than-light spacecraft. There were many other advancements as well.
Meredith continued, "Now, if we could only convince you and the Naturals to embrace Mods, the entire planet could be in harmony."
Morgan decided that now was the time for strong, honest words. The pleasantries were over, and there was no more padding to cushion their colliding belief systems.
"Meredith, when Mods were invented, we disagreed with them but respected an individual’s right to use them. It made sense as we both share the goal of improving humanity. However, it has been over 40 years, and we are alarmed by where it has led you."
Meredith's expression changed to one of curiosity, and she asked, "Where do you think it has led us, Morgan?"
Morgan chose his words carefully.
“You no longer respect the rights of other postures. The Mod movement has been systematically taking over every government in the world and forcing its citizens to accept modification. That is criminal,” he stated flatly.
While she should have been extremely agitated with the accusation, she responded casually as if she expected it.
“Morgan, that's completely false. We have been voted in by the people in every country that has embraced the Mod posture. I thought you would be beyond these types of inflammatory statements.”
Morgan gave her a dark stare. "Sadly, it’s all true. Your movement has cheated, lied, and threatened its way into every government you’ve taken over. Your treatment of other postures has also been criminal. What you've been doing to the Naturals has been atrocious. They just want to be left alone.”
“Morgan, while I respect your opinion, the Crisprs have no right to question the internal matters of sovereign governments.”
“As for the Naturals, let’s be honest. They are savages. Their refusals to accept modifications are a drain on the system. If they won’t change their postures to accept free Mods to bring them up to code, then they need to accept the government-sanctioned alternatives.”
Morgan knew what was coming, but asked anyway. “What alternatives?”
“There are several propositions the Mod-friendly governments are discussing privately, but I think the prevailing alternative will be free chemical castration. A simple, painless, and permanent procedure that will allow the Naturals to live out their lives, even with the ridiculous medical and societal burdens on the rest of us. Then, when they die, their genetic lines end peacefully. We think it’s an incredible concession on our part,” she smiled confidently.
Morgan shook his head at the outrageousness of it. They knew the Mods were already doing this in some countries.
“Meredith, there have also been many acts of violence against the Crisprs and the Naturals."
“We have heard some reports of this, but we played no part. I can’t say it was a surprise considering your opposition to the Mods.”
The government takeovers and the increasing violence against other postures had started an internal debate among the Crisprs. While all agreed that someone’s posture was a personal freedom, the argument centered on what to do when faced with the growing Mod persecution of non-Mods. It had been a contentious debate until the Crisprs had received the incredible message recently. After that, they knew what they had to do. The vote had been unanimous.
Morgan considered these events while Meredith continued.
“Morgan, as a close friend, I must tell you — Mod leadership is losing patience with the Crisprs.”
“Losing patience?” he said, surprised.
“Yes, Morgan!” she exclaimed. “You have been hiding down here for over 20 years and causing nothing but dissent around the world with your rhetoric! You must see by now that modification is the future of all humans!”
“That's ridiculous,” he replied.
She continued. “At the rate of Mod advancement, YOU could be in the Naturals’ shoes someday, so far behind that you are a burden on the entire planet.”
Morgan was furious now, but would not allow her the thrill of seeing it.
When she paused, he spoke quietly and seriously. “As you know, we will never accept your modifications. We have made remarkable strides in advancing humanity. In addition, we know that our work has a bigger purpose.”
“And what is that, Morgan?” she asked.
“Our work is based on what we think our creators wanted when they produced life in the galaxy. Haven't the Mods ever considered this? Gods, aliens, or however you want to describe them, they must have foreseen our future. They knew that one day, life on Earth, if it survived, would advance through natural selection and, when technologically possible, adjust the genetic code to continue these advances. They probably also saw the Mod process. We have accepted both notions, but now know that yours is the incorrect path.”
“Why are you so sure that Mods are the wrong path?”
“Because at the end of all your technical modifications, you'll just be sentient robots. That’s not humanity, Meredith.”
Calling them robots was an insulting thing to say; he knew that. Morgan was also playing the agitation game. Both Meredith and the security guard reacted to the slur with shocked expressions.
He continued. “So here we are, you the representative of the Mods and me the representative of the Crisprs, at an impasse. The Crisprs only want peace and equality for all humans. Can there be peace between us?”
“Morgan, Mod leadership sees the Crisprs as a serious threat. You and your people have retreated to these southernmost parts of the world and work to undermine our mission of a single unified Mod posture. While your advancements have been incredible, you represent a broken component in the machine.”
Then her manner relaxed and changed. She glanced backward at her security officer briefly, then leaned forward, speaking slowly and quietly. “Morgan, on a more personal note, I miss you.”
She paused, looking nervously down at her tea, and slowly raised her eyes to him. “Our two postures are the only reason we separated.” She reached forward and gently grasped his hands, “We were so good together,” she said, looking over his still handsome form with a barely noticeable licking of her lips. “Why can’t we try again?”
She looked at him, almost begging.
He was silent. It had been thirty years since he had seen her, and she still affected him.
She held his hands and continued. "Our postures are different, but we can work through that. With our extended lifetimes, we can have new lives.” Her modified hands were soft, warm, and felt incredible. She looked deep in his eyes as only she could. Her gray eyes were still the most beautiful he had ever seen. When she flashed them at him like now, it demolished his soul. He did miss her. While his life was good, he was still alone. Few women he had met could replace her hold on his heart. He glanced down at her breasts that swelled in the tailored suit, and she caught him enjoying the view and smiled. “It’s nice to see you look at me like that again,” she said softly.
“Meredith…” he said and stopped, staring into her eyes and gorgeous face. Every fiber of him was tempted, but the cost. His iron core, which normally grounded him, was melting.
“Morgan, I want to share something with you. It’s a gift.” She then closed her eyes for a moment, and to Morgan’s repulsion, something moved along her breast inside the tight business suit.
“Meredith?” he began, a slight nervousness in his voice.
She continued, “It’s part of me. I brought it for you,” she said as a several-inch-long white spider emerged from her jacket and crawled down her arm and onto the table.
“Meredith, stop!” he yelled, releasing her hands and jumping up from the table, pushing his chair back. Whatever spell she had cast on him rocketed away, and he stood disgusted at her attempt to modify him.
The Mod security officer reacted immediately to his actions. He flexed his hands, and the barrels of his arm cannons emerged, now charged for use.
Meredith blinked, and the spider returned to her sleeve, twitching ferociously.
“Morgan, I want us to be one again. Accept my gift and give up this stupid Crispr nonsense. There’s only so much you can do and so much more we can do together. You must know that!”
Morgan stood far back from the table, watching Meredith, the spider, and the dangerous security officer. He knew before the meeting started that it was pointless, yet he let his emotions drive the situation. That was a mistake.
The Crisprs understood his plan to talk with her. For all that was going on in this room, she was the most moderate of her people, the rest being even more cruel and destructive. He hoped that enough of her humanity remained to influence the dire situation facing the world. She was his Meredith, and it was worth the risk. His people had told him the risk of being killed was high. He knew this and had almost fallen for her again, even after these many years. However, looking at her, now finally scanning her with abilities she didn’t know he possessed, he was revolted at the result. The person who was Meredith was almost gone.
He also knew, now reading her mind, that all around Australia and New Zealand, the Crisprs’ homeland, Mod invasion forces were in the air, moving toward these countries. Hundreds of hover carriers and troop ships. This was the Mods’ endgame. Everyone would join voluntarily or be forced to accept white spiders and modification.
Morgan mentally shared this information with all the Crisprs.
Meredith watched him curiously, wondering what was going on in his head during the few seconds it took him to scan her and send the information along.
“Morgan, it doesn’t have to be like this,” she said.
He looked at her, listening to his people in his head. “Deliver the ultimatum,” they said. He acknowledged.
Meredith tilted her head to the guard, who raised an arm at Morgan, now pointing an autocannon at him. Without taking his eyes off Meredith, Morgan pulled the guard’s arms off with his mind and threw them across the room into the back wall. The guard’s spinning and falling form showered Meredith with blood. His shrieking filled the room, and he fell to the floor, blood pumping out of his shoulder sockets at great volume. Meredith stared at the guard aghast and then back at Morgan. Morgan looked at the guard and concentrated. His shoulder wounds closed quickly, and he passed out. He would live.
Meredith stepped back now, looking at Morgan, clearly afraid. She pointed her closed fist, which held a powerful laser, at Morgan. It could have cut him in two had he not disabled it. “What the hell are you?” she screamed, still backing up toward the wall of the conference room.
Morgan kept his hands at his side and spoke calmly, “Meredith, the laser won’t work, and I have no plans to hurt you. Your guard will be okay, and your security personnel outside are only unconscious,” he said, nodding toward the window. She glanced out the window, now seeing at least one guard on the ground, unmoving.
“How?”
“Meredith, we made some astounding breakthroughs 12 years ago in our research. Since then, things have increased rapidly. Our abilities...” he said, looking at the unconscious guard, “our knowledge, but most of all our discovery that the path we have been following is the correct one.”
“How do you know that?” she said.
“Those who created humanity and all life in this universe contacted us,” he said, smiling gently.
Meredith laughed bitterly with tears running down her blood-speckled face, still looking at the guard, his arms on the floor across the room, and the massive blood pool on the floor. “You talked to God?” she said incredulously.
He shook his head and said, “We don’t know who it was. They sent us a message. Nothing more. They told us we are right to follow this path and to retain our humanity. They told all of us, at once, ten months ago, and then nothing more.” Morgan frowned. “There was no more contact, as much as we have tried. We are on our own for now, and the future is in our hands.”
“And us? Will you share this knowledge?” she asked hopefully.
“I think you know that would be foolish of us at this point. You would use it to go to war. We know about the invasion plans.” Meredith’s eyes went wide. Morgan continued, “All of your vessels are without power and floating unharmed in the ocean. Please don’t give us reason to end lives,” he said flatly.
“Then what?” Meredith said.
Morgan placed his hands behind his back and offered the ultimatum decided by all Crisprs. “You will abandon and remove your cybernetics; you will allow democracy in all places and no longer persecute anyone. You will help humanity. That is your mission now. You are being given only one chance. Just one,” he said, raising a finger into the air. “Please don’t mess this up.”
Meredith wiped her face and said, “My Mod superiors may not be as convinced as me.” Morgan smiled at her. “We understood this from the beginning,” he said. “That’s why our meeting today will appear in every mind in the world when we leave here. They will understand. If not, then you will all perish in the blink of an eye.”
Meredith shook her head as more tears fell from her eyes, and she openly wept. “Morgan, I’m…sorry,” she said, looking down at the floor and then seeing him suddenly right in front of her. He used his sleeve, like he had many times while they were married, to wipe her tears away. She watched his face as he wiped her tears, then became very scared.
“Morgan, I am not sure I can live as a normal human,” she paused, almost looking sick. “I’ve had too many modifications. I don’t think I can stay alive.”
He stood back a step and looked at her, concentrating. Then he stepped away from the table and said, “You will be able to live.” The conference table held dozens of components, assemblies, artificial body parts, and melted spiders. She realized quickly that these were hers. She looked at her hands, now normal and pink, and felt her stomach touching real flesh for the first time in many years, and her tears flowed again. “Morgan...” she could not finish her words.
Morgan spoke firmly and quietly, “Meredith, this is proof of what we can do. All the Mods will be made whole just as you are now, but only when they can prove they are still worth saving. Please, I beg you, Meredith,” he held up one finger again. “There will be only one chance, or you will all die,” he said flatly.
Her face showed a renewed purpose. “I will make them understand, I swear, Morgan.”
“I hope so, Meredith. I do. We will be watching,” he said, walking across the room to touch the stained-glass window one last time. “Many of us, including me, are going away.”
She looked up, confused. “Away?” she asked.
“You will see us again, but there is exploring to do. Be well, Meredith,” he paused, looking into her eyes. “I love you.” And he disappeared.
“Morgan!” she pleaded, looking around the room. He was nowhere to be seen. She glanced at the guard, now hearing him moan. His wounds were healed, and small stumps were protruding from his shoulder sockets, covered with freshly growing, pinkish skin.
THE END.
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Patrick S. Barnes lives in Farmville, Virginia where he works as a digital marketing and branding professional. He writes sci-fi short stories and novels in his spare time. Formerly the brand manager for the science fiction network COMET TV, he’s a dedicated sci-fi reader and film buff who believes UFOs are real. He plays right wing on a local ice hockey team and lives with his wife and a roaming band of feral cats.